Precursors: Foxhole Friends
by Botosphere
Summary: The War that destroyed Cybertron began with a single shot.  Innocents were caught in the crossfire and rivals had to learn to work together in order to survive.  Friendship, however, was both optional and a surprise.
1. Blind Date

Author's Note (Eowyn77): I know I said "The Tie That Binds" would be my first fanfic priority, but this plot bunny bit me _hard_. This will be a series of one-shots (updated whenever the muse moves me) about Bumblebee and Arcee. IDW's _Transformers: Defiance_ establishes them as friends but (as usual) provides very few of the details. Hopefully this fic will correct that a little bit. :) Since it's a prequel to "Bright Spot," the relationship between Bee and Arcee will be purely friendship, but an increasingly deep one.

Oh, and just to clarify, in my little 'verse, opposite-gendered creators give life to sparklings (with parent/child bonds) and single or same-gendered creators give life to younglings (with sibling bonds). If you'd like a better explanation of all that, please read chapter 9 of TTB. Hope you enjoy! 

'bond talk'

/comm talk/

_thoughts_

* * *

"Hey, Bumblebee."

The yellow 'bot paused in the corridor outside the barracks he shared with a dozen other mechs. Turning to face the speaker, he smiled at the off-white femme who, while close to his mass, was about half his height. "Radio Flyer."

She shook her head at him. "RaFly. And I have a mission for you, if you're up to it."

'Bee's antennas lifted in interest. RaFly was a family friend; his creator Goldbug worked in special ops recognizance. Essentially, 'Bug made a cometary entrance into enemy territory and hunted down the intel the Planetary Defense Forces needed. Three rendezvous points were set up and if he didn't make one of those three, he was assumed to be dead. Frequently, RaFly worked with him in these assignments, sometimes joining him planetside and sometimes heading up the retrieval team.

She also had been one of the workers at the Planetary Defense Forces recruiting rally when he graduated. She had been manning the munitions research booth right next to Prowl's All Spark temple guardians department. They'd talked for a while before he admitted that his intelligence ranking wasn't quite high enough for her department. It was the truth, he was only a few points too low, and she'd been sympathetic. RaFly had tried to cheer him up with stories about mechs and femmes she knew who had started out as grunts in some of the less glorious departments only to win positions of authority through skill and upgrades. It was with her encouragement that he'd approached the unapproachable Prowl and signed on as a temple guardian instead. Bumblebee shared most of the Defense Forces' opinion that the temple guardians tended to be low-end builds but at least it was better than the alternative.

If there was any femme he wanted to impress, it was Radio Flyer.

"Of course I'm up for it! Is it dangerous?" he teasingly added.

"Very," she solemnly answered as she and Bumblebee turned to walk back the way she'd come. "You'll have to infiltrate enemy territory and retrieve critical intel. You'll be lucky to get out of there alive."

Something in the growling admiration in her voice triggered a realization. "You're sending me into the Science Division?" he asked, surprised.

"That scare you?" she demanded, this time with a hint of humor in her optics.

"No, but I'd never be able to pass for one of those chipheads. What do scientists do for torture, anyway? Intraspacial physics lectures?"

She gave him a sidelong grin. "No. Intraspacial physics _jokes_."

Bumblebee groaned in mock-terror and RaFly laughed.

The mission, it turned out, was far more interesting than mere spying and pranks. It was well known that the commerce clans had some artisan upgrades that were practically magic – impenetrable forcefields, invisibility cloaks – but they were far too expensive for other 'bots to even dream of purchasing. Even for the defense forces, the technology was impractically pricey. So RaFly's department had been working on more economical versions of some of the commerce-clan upgrades, and they had one ready to try out.

Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably as RaFly attached the collar to him. The weight of it rested mostly on his shoulders, but four rods extended upward and out, forming the four points of a square above his head. Then she tapped into his energy conduits, rerouting power from his weapons to the experimental device.

A lumbering green mech named Isotope snorted. "You look stupid in that thing."

"You won't look _anything_ in an astrosecond," RaFly reminded 'Bee, cutting him off from tossing back an insult. "Invisibility cloak, remember?"

"I'd feel better if it had some kind of control mechanism."

"There's already enough hardware," she lightly said. "Adding a physical control just makes it that much more complicated. Besides, I've seen your intelligence rating. You can handle the software. Trust me."

"But what if I lose focus?"

"Then you'll have to endure a night at the Science Division comedy club." She let that horrific mental image sink in for an astrosecond, and then stated the obvious for good measure. "If you value your sanity, _don't _lose your focus."

"Right."

RaFly patted his shoulder and then returned to her place behind a control panel. "Go ahead, 'Bee. Give it a try."

With a thought, Bumblebee activated the program and energy crackled along the rods to make a cubic outline around him. Then a curtain of power fell, silently encasing him in a transparent shimmer. "Is it working?" he called.

When they didn't answer, he tried a comm. /Is it working?/

/Perfectly/ RaFly answered, glancing down at the console. /It's masking your spark signature and damping sound waves just like it should. Even the comm is pretty weak – I'd say a range no greater than a few strides./

/So if I get caught, I'm on my own./

She rolled her optics. /Stop being such a pessimist. You have your orders – now shoo!/

/Yes, ma'am./

He moved stealthily down the hallways, trying out this new toy. He had to remind himself that he was invisible and dodge out of other mechs' way sometimes, but for the most part, the whole experience left him feeling pretty smug.

His orders were just dangerous enough to make this trial-run of the cloak really fun. Apparently Radio Flyer and another femme from the Science Division had collaborated together on some underground imaging techniques for the archeology department. The project had ended half an orbital cycle ago with only moderate success. Then a few solar cycles ago, Lieutenant Skywarp told Radio Flyer that Arcee, the other femme, had withheld some of her findings. Everyone knew that Skywarp tended to be a bit of a troublemaker, but he swore up and down that it was the truth, so Radio Flyer decided to get to the bottom of the rumor _and_ test out the invisibility cloak all in one go. Bumblebee was supposed to sneak into this Arcee's home, find her personal data storage device, copy the information in it, and bring it to RaFly. Simple! Radio Flyer had even timed things so that he could just wait a little bit until Arcee left for the solar cycle and slip in while she was on her way out.

Armed with the femme's address, Bumblebee made his way through the research and production towers until he came to Old Street, the unofficial boundary between the Science Division's physical part of the city and that of the Planetary Defense Forces. He'd never seen how the other half lived, and he couldn't think of a better way to find out. With a grin and an adventurous spring in his step, he crossed the street and plunged into unfamiliar territory.

It wasn't until he was half-way between Old Street and Arcee's home that he wondered why RaFly didn't test this out herself. It wasn't until he was within sight of Arcee's residential tower that he realized she didn't live in a barracks like most 'bots – she had private quarters, something reserved for department heads.

…

Engrossed in the report she was reading, Arcee absentmindedly waved goodbye to Chromia as she and Firestar headed out for the morning. They were going to a holo-program and then, knowing Firestar, those two would drop in on the Healing Arts department to flirt with the mechs there.

"Be back by mid-solar," Arcee called to her youngest sister.

"The games tournament isn't until sunset," Chromia protested.

"I want to get in some practice before we're actually in the arena, and _you_ lose track of time, especially if you're around large mechs. Mid-solar, or I'll come looking for you, and I have better things to do on my solar cycle off."

Chromia huffed and stalked out of their apartments.

Arcee reached across her bond to her other sister, Elita. 'Remind me why we created Chromia.'

'So that if anything ever happened to you, I wouldn't be alone,' Elita answered, gentle humor flowing back to soothe Arcee's irritation. 'And vice versa. Your life would be diminished without her,' Elita added.

With a sigh, Arcee admitted, 'You're right, you're right. But if she brings home Wheeljack again, I swear I'm finding new quarters for her. That mech is bad enough in a lab – the thought of him standing in our apartments is downright terrifying.'

Elita chuckled. 'He's not going to spontaneously explode.'

'He already did. Twice. First time was before you were brought online.'

'I didn't realize he was that old.'

Arcee snorted. 'Most of him isn't. Why does she have to be so infatuated with things that blow up? Never mind, I can feel you're distracted. I'll let you get back to work. But thank you, sister.'

'My pleasure.'

Arcee turned her focus back to the screen in front of her and frowned thoughtfully as she continued to read. Two more promising archeological sites on Beta Luna had turned up nothing more than shattered stonework. The closer they got to the strata in which legend stated the Primes ruled, the less physical evidence they found. For a span of two hundred orbital cycles, there was not a single intact artifact anywhere in the Cybertronian realms. At first, the theory had been coincidence – the strata were deep, after all, and time eroded even Cyberton's creations. But as more archeological evidence had been unearthed intact, it became apparent that there was a clear gap in the record. Some speculated that there had been a mysterious calamity – the explosion of a large, unknown star, perhaps. The theory was that the catastrophic event physically disrupted the strata, crushing the artifacts within the ground, or interfering with Cybertonian culture to the point that the ancients were reduced to a primitive lifestyle that left no physical remains.

She lifted her head, looking away from the datapad, and began running probabilities. Elita would be the best one to do this, but Arcee didn't want to interrupt her again. With the addition of this new data from Beta Luna, the patterns previously hinted at became a little clearer. She didn't have the evidence to prove it yet, but Arcee was increasingly convinced that the gap in the record was deliberate, that an intelligence was at work in all this destruction. Even cataclysm wasn't this thorough.

And then she blinked. For a split astrosecond, there had been a shimmer there by the fuel dispenser. Puzzled, she moved closer. Were she the superstitious kind, she would suspect a ghost, but the only ghost who might visit her would be her extinguished creator Aren, and frankly, Arcee would have expected a visit long before now.

She focused every last one of her sensors on where she'd seen the shimmer, and she had a pretty formidable array of them. Light, heat, sound waves all read perfectly normal, but when she analyzed the motion of the molecules of the air, there was a…well…pile-up. The molecules were thicker in density around a boxy shape in front of her, almost like they were being doubled  
or tripled. Had this anomaly been solid, the space around it might have had a slightly increased density as the randomly-moving air molecules ricocheted off it. This was something different entirely. Arcee extended her hand to touch whatever this thing was, and shrieked as a mech materialized in front of her.

The yellow mech bolted toward the door, but Arcee launched herself at his back, hitting him right between the doorwings and toppling him. Over her sister bonds, she said, 'Get security up here – there's an intruder in our quarters.'

'Frag security,' Chromia answered, and Arcee could feel that her youngest sister was already speeding home. 'I don't want to them to know I killed him.'

Elita wasn't far behind. 'But then where would we hide the body?'

Being larger in mass, the yellow mech bucked against Arcee ,trying to knock her off him, until he felt a blade stab down between the gaps in his armor. He froze as diagnostics told him it was resting on the neural wiring that went to his spark chamber.

"Glad I got your attention," Arcee snarled. "Now tell me what in the _Pit _you were doing in my rooms!"

"Nothing…?" he ventured.

"What's your name?" she demanded.

"Bumblebee? Um, could you please move that blade back just a _little _bit?"

"No. Not until you tell me what you're doing here!"

Chromia and Firestar burst through the front door, Chromia's weapons primed and ready. She relaxed slightly when she saw Arcee had the situation under control. "What do you think of his build?" she asked her oldest sister. "If we blow his helm off, will that kill him?

"That would be best," Firestar sagely interjected. "Spark chambers are harder, by all accounts, and a lot bigger mess to clean up."

Arcee smirked as she felt a shudder run through the mech beneath her. "And how would you know that?" she asked Firestar.

The red femme shrugged. "That's what Inferno says. He's had to clean up after a few domestic disputes."

Elita dashed into the quarters and, like Chromia, relaxed when she saw Arcee was unharmed.

'We've got him terrified, sisters,' Arcee said over the bond. 'Play it up a bit and he'll confess everything.'

Elita nodded. "It's good we didn't call security. Chromia is right that it will be easier to deal with this ourselves."

"But like you said," Arcee answered, looking to Elita, "where do we hide the body?"

Chromia waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, Wheeljack can take care of it for us, I'm sure. Just like last time."

'Easy,' Elita warned her. 'Don't make it too outrageous.'

By now, Bumblebee was trembling and Arcee was desperately fighting a grin. She shifted, easing the pressure on Bumblebee's neural wiring ever so slightly. "He is kind of cute in the yellow, though, and not many mechs can pull _that_ off. Maybe we could let him live?"

Chromia scowled. "He broke into our quarters. I say blast him."

"You would," Firestar retorted with a chuckle.

Elita crouched down to where she could meet his optics. "What is your name?"

"Bumblebee," he repeated, grateful for the calm in her voice and face.

"And why were you in our quarters?"

"Because…because I was looking for information."

Arcee narrowed her optics at this revelation, but Elita didn't miss a beat. "About what?"

He hesitated for a moment and then seemed to come to a conclusion. "Lieutenant Skywarp thought that Arcee was hiding information from the munitions development department."

"The underground imaging," Arcee hissed. "Did Radio Flyer put you up to this?"

"She was just doing what Skywarp told her to," he defensively said.

"How were you invisible?" Arcee demanded.

Chromia and Firestar exchanged a glance at that one.

"It was a prototype. They were trying to mimic the commerce clans' upgrades."

"Well obviously it didn't work, now did it," Arcee goaded. Looking up, she said, "What do you think, sisters? Turn him over to Chromia or to Skywarp?"

Elita reached out and snapped one of the rods off the invisibility cloak's collar. "I have an idea."

…

Bumblebee hung his head, his battle mask dropped over his face to hide his shame. It was bad enough that he'd been taken down by a 'bot a third his size – but these were _Science Division_ 'bots. They were geeks! Weak geeks, according to Megatron anyway. It was like being overpowered and trussed up by glitch mice.

The femmes had put him in stasis cuffs, attached a lead to the collar, and marched him down to the local precinct station. A femme security officer named Lancer just about fell over laughing when Arcee told her what happened, and now the two femmes were parading him through the Science Division. At least the gentlest femme had suggested they give him back to Radio Flyer instead of Skywarp. He hated to disappoint RaFly but was terrified of what the Seeker's reaction would have been.

Mechs curiously poked their heads out of offices and labs as they passed, and Bumblebee's wings drooped lower each time. Maybe it would have been better if the femmes _had _blown his head off.

RaFly met them in one of the corridors, shaking her head, and Bumblebee's humiliation was complete. Arcee handed off the lead to the off-white femme, saying, "Better luck next time, Radio Flyer."

With a sigh, she accepted the leash, but there was a stubborn undertone to her voice when she said, "Back to the drawing board, then."

RayFly continued down the corridor, still leading 'Bee. It wasn't until they were in an elevator that she finally took pity on him and removed the stasis cuffs and the collar. She looked up at him, somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Lost your focus?"

His whole frame drooped in embarrassment and guilt. "Lost my focus," he admitted.


	2. Shock and Awe

Author's Note: A lot of the storyline for this chapter comes from IDW's _Transformers: Defiance_, including some of the dialog. To the intellectual property lawyers with nothing better to do than lurk on a fanfic site looking for copyright infringements, don't sue! It's all in good fun, and I'm making much less money (try none) writing this story than you're making reading it. :)

And just to clarify: Elita and Arcee are sisters, and Elita is spark-bonded to Optimus, so they share clan bonds. (Again, see "Kinship" or "The Tie That Binds" for a more in-depth explanation.)

* * *

Arcee thought it was unusual for Megatron to visit any archeological dig, but then, this was no common artifact they'd uncovered. The first and thus far only intact _anything_ from the era in which the Primes were supposed to have ruled was a big deal, but she was surprised that Megatron would show such an interest in it.

When she led Optimus and Megatron to the precipice overlooking the excavation site, a change came over the Lord Protector, something visible even to Arcee who barely knew the mech. And then he demanded the unthinkable – that this precious, priceless artifact be brought to his personal quarters at once.

The explosion shook the ground beneath her feet. Optimus, Megatron, Jazz, Arcee – they all whirled to see a commerce tower erupt in flame. Before she could react, Megatron received a transmission from his second-in-command. "Megaton, we're under attack!"

"Who dares?" he snarled back.

Starscream reported that the attackers were an alien species and Megatron gave orders for the planet's defense and for Optimus to lead the Science Division into the battle.

Arcee watched coolly as the two former brothers argued – or rather, as Megatron gave orders and Optimus evenly answered. When the Lord Protector flew toward the fray, Optimus' calm facade finally gave way and he growled, "Yes sir."

Over their clan bond, Arcee murmured to Optimus, 'I don't see much of a family resemblance.'

'Neither do I,' he grimly answered, 'not anymore.' Aloud, he said, "Arcee, you and Ratchet get the artifact to safety in Trypticon. Jazz, assemble our security forces. We go to the Simfur district in Thetacon."

...

The Constructicons went to work, and Arcee frowned thoughtfully as they hurriedly excavated around the artifact. The only stonework surviving from the Dynasty of the Primes was a fascinating thing, wedge-shaped with a stylized, triangular emblem or symbol that almost looked like a face etched into the surface. It was large – larger than Megatron – and as ominously impressive as one would expect from a Prime artifact. Initial scans revealed a material as unique as the stone itself, a strange mix of metallic and non-metallic crystalline structures that was a positive honeycomb of transdimensional markers. A sponge, that's what it was – a sponge that could absorb an entire mech into subspace. What _was _it? Was it associated with the Dynasty, with a specific Prime? Besides the symbol or face, the etchings on the surface seemed more decorative than communicative, like the tribal and clan markings each 'bot wore, though it would strange to identify a mere stone with clan insignias. Was it a data-storage device? A road marker? An advertisement?

She vented a frustrated huff. It was maddening to have finally found an intact artifact from the era of the Primes, only to have to tear it from the ground like this. They weren't preserving history; they were destroying it – disturbing the strata, erasing the cultural context of the artifact, and no doubt damaging any other items nearby. Yes, this find was unique. It was significant. But without context, it _meant _nothing. Without context, they wouldn't know _why _it was important, to the ancients or to modern mechs and femmes. Without context, it was a mere oddity, a thing instead of a story with a character and voice of its own.

The distant rumble of collapsing buildings and the crack of weapons fire reminded her why they had to hurry, though.

"We're just about finished," Demolisher informed her.

"See if Long Haul or Payload is willing to carry it, but the rest of you don't go anywhere. We'll need to provide a security escort for it."

"Security?" he grumbled. "We're construction drones. What are we gonna use to fight?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that," she answered, "but if it does...get creative."

Ratchet arrived as High Tower was lifting the carefully-wrapped artifact into Long Haul's bed. He took point with the other construction drones protectively surrounding the dumptruck. Arcee rode on Long Haul's roof, keeping watch over the artifact and on the sky.

Arcee knew her sister Elita was with her mate, and together they were speeding into battle. Part of Arcee desperately wanted to keep their sister-bond open, to make sure both Elita and Optimus were safe, but another part of her feared distracting them and kept the bond blocked. Her bond with Chromia was already dormant. Lancer, another sister and co-creator of Moonracer, was with the advance defense teams as part of Jazz's security contingent. Her youngest sister, Moonracer, was also part of Optimus' Science Division, though Lancer had made sure that the young femme was in the reserve ranks, which were least likely to see combat. Arcee tentatively opened her bond to Moonracer. 'How are you holding up?'

She answered with a nervous little bubble that would have been a giggle under other circumstances. 'About as well as could be expected. What's going on? All Lancer knew was that we were under attack and that you staying at some dig site? I thought for sure Optimus would have you at the head of your department, at least."

'The aliens have really bad timing – we just uncovered something important and we're getting it to someplace safe. Then I'll come and fight for you.'

'Don't. Please, don't. I'm glad _somebody_ is out of the line of fire.'

A pang of guilt and regret struck Arcee's spark. That _somebody _should be Moonracer. 'Stay keen and safe, little sister," she said, hiding her guilt under protective worry and encouragement. 'Contact me if you need anything, but in the meantime, keep your head down and your optics open. Got it? You need to keep yourself safe.'

'Will do. You, too.' Then Moonracer blocked the bond so she could concentrate.

Even with the bond blocked, though, Arcee's gaze kept being drawn to where she knew Moonracer was, so close to the battle. Anxiety crept into her spark as the construction drones drove on. Arcee knew they were going as fast as they could, but it was still painfully slow. Something terrible was happening – she just knew it. She also knew she wouldn't be able to stop it and most likely wouldn't know about it until it was too late.

She tried to tell herself it was silly, this growing fear. For one thing, it wasn't even really centered on her kin, even though all of them were in grave physical danger. It felt...bigger. More primal, like a monstrous solar flare or something, but worse than that. Something _evil. _ The danger she feared wasn't just to herself or to her clan or even to the city. The realization finally broke through, trailing black, cloying terror behind it: The All Spark. The Temple at Simfur was in the very center of that battle. It couldn't be coincidence.

What if it were destroyed? It was the only known source of energon – they would all rust to death. The mental image came unbidden of Arcee and her sisters broken and huddled together, their seized parts cold as their sparks extinguished. These were _her _sisters – she couldn't let that happen, but she couldn't stop it from happening, either. Not while she was stuck in the bed of Long Haul's truck with this mysterious, carved stone that seemed so meaningless now.

Maybe the aliens would try to capture the All Spark. The thought was at least bearable. They could hunt down these aggressors and rescue the Cube. Sure, rations might be tight for a while, but they would survive. Just like her species had survived the Great Dispersion during the rule of the Primes. Arcee would do everything should could to ensure that _her _clan would survive.

Finally, _finally _they pulled into Thetacon's sister-city Trypticon and worked their way through the broken streets to the Lord Protector's quarters. It was a simple matter for the construction drones to unload the artifact. Arcee didn't even bother unwrapping it – there was no time and she wanted nothing to do with it now. The thought flickered through her mind that the artifact was unearthed on the same solar cycle in which the All Spark was targeted, but a quick probability check reassured her it was most likely nothing.

She and Ratchet were half way to Thetacon when Elita poked Arcee over the bond. 'It's over! They're retreating!'

She should have felt relief, but that ominous terror still clung to her spark, damping it. 'And the All Spark? Is it safe?'

'Optimus sent Jazz to check it out and make sure. We've had reports that the Temple at Simfur was breached but the guardians held the aliens off until Defense Forces arrived.'

Ratchet slowed, no doubt hearing the news through his own bonds, but Arcee sped on. Until she saw it with her own optics, she wouldn't believe it. Until she was _sure _the Cube was intact and her clan would not starve, she would continue on to Thetacon.

Maybe then this stifling terror would pass.

…

The Temple at Simfur stood at the center of Thetacon, and as the the shock of the attack wore off, dazed 'bots instinctively gathered there. As a temple guardian, Bumblebee stood on the street, his back to the gaping hole in the wall of the All Spark temple, remembering the conversation that had ended just a short while ago.

Prowl, department head over the temple guardians, had ordered the building shuttered for the rest of the solar cycle. Such a thing had never happened in living memory.

"Is that really necessary?" Jazz had asked.

Prowl's doorwings twitched in annoyance at being questioned on something that was completely his prerogative. "They will come – every 'bot that can – over the next half-dozen solars. Some will come for reassurance that the All Spark is safe. Others will come looking for peace in their own sparks. Some will just want an energon ration to steady their circuits. We will be inundated."

"But isn't that why ya should be throwing th' doors wide open?"

"Anyone who simply wants to lay optics on the All Spark has that convenient blast-hole in the wall to look through. The grounds will remain open for those seeking solace. Anyone wanting an energon ration can buy it from the street-hawkers or wait a half-dozen solar cycles to receive one. It is wiser to give them time for their emotions to cool."

_Easy for him to say_, Bumblebee thought as more mechs wandered into the west square where he was now standing guard. He and Cliffjumper were pulling a double-shift on Prowl's orders. Someone needed to keep the shocked masses from swarming into the damaged temple. So far, the cordon they'd set up had been enough. 'Bee only hoped it would stay that way because if this crowd got it into their processors to enter the temple, there was nothing two guardians could do to stop them.

And then, impossibly, his solar cycle took a turn for the worse. A short 'bot was elbowing forward through the crowd, and Bumblebee's spark chilled when he recognized the flashes of pink armor. He'd only once ever seen a femme that color.

"You!" Arcee practically growled as she recognized him, and Bumblebee inwardly cringed. _Great! First aliens attack and now a glitched femme._

She squeezed between other stunned bystanders, forcing her way forward until she was leaning over the edge of the barrier. Bumblebee vented a sigh of relief when she didn't duck under it and rampage right up to him. "You! I need to talk to you!"

Cliffjumper gave him a sidelong look. "You never said you had a femme."

"I don't," Bumblebee muttered but decided he really didn't want to explain how it was Arcee knew him. Instead, he sidled up to her. Too quietly for Cliffjumper to hear, he hissed, "What do you want?"

"I want admittance into the temple," she answered.

"No one's allowed in today."

"I know that," she snarled. She paused, forcing herself to calm down and be civil. "I'm low on energon. I should have come down here half an orbital cycle ago, but I was in the middle of a major project and now you can't even get it from the street-hawkers…"

Bumblebee crossed his arms. Even if he were inclined to help her, he could get in serious trouble if he admitted her, even just to sneak an energon ration. Prowl would hardly let a pretty frame and a sob story be a first-class ticket into the All Spark temple, and he held all of the guardians to his own personal standard.

Her optics narrowed. "You owe me."

Bumblebee sputtered at her audacity. "You humiliated me in front of the entire Science Division!"

"_You_ broke into my personal quarters trying to steal from me," she reminded him, "_while I was there_!"

Shame burned across the surface of his armor at the reminder. While her actions had been embarrassing, they hadn't been outright illegal. Lancer had offered to arrest 'Bee, but Arcee declined to press charges, instead asking that he be given a police escort back to his superiors. As much as he hated to admit it, he did owe her, at least a little bit. Frowning, he mused, "You _are _a department head from the Science Division. And I'm sure you'll retrieve energon for more suffering sparks than just yourself. And you'll share it _freely_."

She grimaced slightly, annoyed that he would imply she was trying to turn a profit, but nodded.

Bumblebee's optics roved over the crowd, which had grown even as they talked. "Go to the 122nd Barracks House in the Temple Tower a little after sunset. Ask for me, Bumblebee, and I'll get you in then."

She nodded curtly and squirmed her way back into the depths of the crowd.

"Who was that?" Cliffjumper asked when Bumblebee returned to his post.

"Some geek from the Science Division. She knows RaFly."

The red mech nodded in understanding but, when Bumblebee's attention was elsewhere, gave him a curious, sidelong look.

…

'Bee anxiously drove down Temple Street to his barracks. From time to time, he passed security teams who were digging through rubble, calling out to each other as they tried to rescue the wounded and recover the dead. He felt conspicuously clean next to their smudged and weary frames, and he almost wished he could make the red temple guardian insignia a little larger so they could see why he wasn't working beside them. He'd begun his shift at midnight and was as weary as the next mech, otherwise he'd stay to help.

His residential tower was still standing, though the top floors had taken some damage in the attack. A vague hope took shape in the back of his processors – maybe that cracked femme Arcee would forget his address. He could just go into recharge and let this miserable solar cycle end. But no, she was waiting for him in the hallway outside the barracks.

_What possessed me to agree to this? _he wondered. _Oh yeah. She could have me arrested._

Without so much as a hello, he stepped close and muttered, "Here's the deal. I get you into the temple tonight, I get you your ration, and then we're even. I don't owe you anymore, and you don't go blabbing to everyone what happened two whole orbital cycles ago. It's dead and gone."

She briskly bobbed her head in agreement. "Deal."

Bumblebee led her back down to the street and they silently sped toward the temple. She seemed edgy still, following closely on his bumper, and 'Bee wondered what had crawled up her tailpipe to make a department head act like this. Their destination in sight, he transformed, deciding that whatever her problem was, it wasn't his.

Arcee fell in step with him, striding with quick, single-minded paces. Bumblebee was relieved to see that he recognized the mech on duty at the officiators' entrance. "Hi, Huffer."

"Bumblebee. Who's this?" he asked, pointing to the pink femme

"Her name's Arcee." Inspiration struck, and Bumblebee explained, "She's a department head with the Science Division. She's supposed to examine the All Spark to make sure there wasn't any damage to the Cube itself."

Huffer looked at her doubtfully, and with a darting, sidelong glance at Bumblebee, she said, "I can sense things that are invisible to most 'bots."

"She can," 'Bee interjected before Huffer could ask or Arcee could tell, "and like I said, she's a department head, so she's kind of in a hurry."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go ahead."

They passed through the doors into the temple and Bumblebee suddenly had to quicken his stride to keep up with Arcee despite the fact that she was smaller. The hallway made several turns, leading past offices and gathering rooms. "May as well check on the All Spark," she said to him, "since you told Huffer that I would."

"Sure." _Whatever you say, crazy femme_, he thought.

It wasn't until they climbed up the last steps into the Sanctuary that her pace slowed. A few more almost-hesitant steps and then she paused, staring up in a reverence that 'Bee easily recognized. Every 'bot needed energon and most came to the temple to get it at least once in their lives, but only mechs and femmes seeking a sparkling or a youngling were permitted into the Sanctuary and the presence of the All Spark.

The temple guardians tended to forget, after working daily with the Cube, that this most sacred site was home to the relic most sacred to their kind. Seeing this cocky, important, scrapping-tough femme staring like an awestruck sparkling made Bumblebee smile despite himself.

"See," he said, "safe and in one piece."

She nodded slightly, her optics still intent on the Cube. After a long moment, she visibly relaxed. "You're right. I'm not detecting anything worrying, even with my sharpest senses." She tore her gaze away to bow her head in 'Bee's direction. "The temple guardians served us all well today. Even if you didn't personally stand between the All Spark and harm, you have my thanks."

Her courtesy shocked him – he didn't think she'd ever say a polite word to him, especially after she got her way. Arcee didn't seem to notice his surprise, instead drifting closer almost as if drawn to the Cube.

"I did, though," he couldn't help saying. "Cliffjumper and I were on duty here in the Sanctuary when the aliens attacked."

That finally caught her attention and she turned to gape at him in awe. "_You _protected the All Spark? You, personally?"

Honesty got the better of him and he ducked his head. "Megatron's the one who actually drove them off."

"Still...wow."

The admiration in her optics made Bumblebee feel like he'd doubled in height. Especially coming from _this _femme, the respect meant a lot. And now that he _could _make a good impression, he realized he really wanted to. Fumbling for conversation, he gestured toward the Cube and asked, "Been here before?"

She turned again, staring up at the All Spark with shining optics. "Several times. You?"

"No, not as a creator. I'm the youngest of my whole clan, actually."

"At one time or another, I've had a total of five sisters," she quietly said. "My creator has returned to the Well of All Sparks, but four still live. I am the oldest and a creator of three of them."

Bumblebee gave a low whistle in surprise and she tossed a smirk his way. "You met most of them."

He ducked his head, and her smirk gentled to a small smile. "Sorry. That's all dead and gone, as promised. Assuming you keep your end of the bargain, of course."

"Right, energon. This way."

They crossed the Sanctuary, skirting the Cube, and passed the niche where the Matrix Flame eternally burned. Bumblebee opened a set of heavy doors and together they descended a broad staircase. Transepts opened to the left and right, both of them dim and empty. Normally they would be bright and bustling with 'bots who came for energon rations, either for themselves or to use in trade. In the silence, Arcee vented a single, worried sigh.

"It's only for a few solar cycles," he explained, "to give everyone a chance to mourn and to calm down. The officiators who aren't protecting the temple are out helping the security teams."

"That sounds like Prowl's kind of logic," Arcee muttered. She looked up at 'Bee, and the anxiety was plain in her optics when she asked, "Unless there's more to it?"

"No," he answered, finally understanding both her edginess earlier and her sudden change here in the temple. She'd been frightened. Crazy femmes were beyond his comprehension, but fear he understood. 'Bee smiled reassuringly. "There's plenty of energon. Come on."

He turned left and led her down the echoing hall, pausing at the archway where normally a temple guardian greeted the thirsty. "The light of your optics is dim," he formally declared in the manner of an officiator. "Enter and receive power."

And then he was on his way again, leading a thoughtful Arcee in his wake. Bumblebee was barely more than a youngling, and yet he had put his own spark in harm's way to protect the Cube. He strode through the most important site on Cyberton like he belonged here and, even more impressive, he was actually doing her a favor despite what she'd put him through before. The mech she'd discovered in her quarters was a prankster foolish enough to be caught in his own game. This mech, though…he was a different build entirely.

At a bubbling energon fountain – one of several in the transept – he retrieved a ceremonial cube and filled it for her. She accepted it, bowing her head slightly in gratitude, and drank deep. Energon had never tasted so sweet to her, so spark-satisfying. She wanted to savor it, but she was too thirsty. Quick as she was, though, Bumblebee was quicker. By the time she was finished with her own ration, he had filled a trader's vessel and sealed it for her.

Arcee had almost forgotten – she was supposed to share it, too. "Thank you, Bumblebee."

He was practically cheerful when he answered, "You're welcome. But we'd better not stay in here too long."

"Right." Back to the reality of this awful solar cycle – back to the shattering of their world. "Lead the way."

They passed through the Sanctuary in respectful silence. Winding their way through the back hallways, Bumblebee finally got up the circuits to ask a question that had bothered him for a long time. "How did you know, back in your quarters?"

The femme smiled a little knowing exactly what he was referring to. "There was a glitch of some kind. I saw a flicker that must have been the cloak."

"No, I mean before that. You were staring right at me for so long – that's why I lost my focus and the cloak started to slip. How did you know I was there then?"

Arcee softly chuckled, glancing up at him. "I didn't. I was processing a tough problem. You must have just been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time."

'Bee rolled his optics at that one.

At the exit door, Arcee paused, impulsively resting a hand on the yellow mech's forearm. "Thank you, Bumblebee, for your help and for the rations. My sisters and I will drink to you and to all the temple guardians. As far as I'm concerned, we're even."

Feeling braver in the face of her unexpected kindness, he said, "One last question, and then we're even."

Arcee looked at him expectantly and he asked, "Why were you carrying a blade in your own quarters?"

She smirked and lifted her hand. It transformed into something that, while wicked-looking, was obviously scientific. "It's a thermal probe for subsurface ground readings." With a shrug, she returned her hand to its normal configuration. "I'm a scientist. I came pre-loaded with all kinds of pokey stuff."

He snorted in amusement as he pushed open the door for her and she grinned as she stepped through. "See you around, Bumblebee."


	3. Prime

Author's Note: Again, a large part of this chapter comes from IDW's _Transformers: Defiance_, up the point when Optimus sends his friends away. From then on, the plot and dialogue are my own. Anyone whose name you recognize belongs to someone else, though. :) In the Botosphere fanon, the femme StarSheen is one of the creator-sisters of Optimus' mother, so basically she's his aunt.

* * *

Arcee frowned thoughtfully at the holo-projection in front of her. The artifact she and Ratchet had delivered to Lord Megatron's quarters was the only intact item at the dig, but there were literally hundreds of other fragments. In an unspoken agreement, Ratchet and Arcee had returned to the dig site before dawn the solar cycle after the attack to salvage whatever they could from the debris around the intact artifact. Some of the fragments were made of the same unusual material, and those fragments were being projected now.

Elita had joined her sister for the solar cycle to help with the retrieval and analysis, but she would have to leave for Polyhex that night for her own, government work.

"I'd give half my processors for decent _context _on these!" Arcee said to her sister.

Elita gave Arcee a sidelong smile. "I agree, though I'd only give a quarter of my processors."

Arcee smirked in answer before focusing again, manipulating the holograms of the fragments and trying to make them match like pieces to a puzzle. The real fragments were far too precious to be handled, even here in her lab. After finding the intact artifact, she'd had a much easier time fitting the fragments together to form similar artifacts. So far she'd completed assembling eleven and was working on the twelfth now. Twelve, she idly mused. Six was symbolic of totality to the Autobots, like the six sides of The Cube. Two times six…that couldn't be coincidence. Twelve broken and one intact.

Optimus arrived a short while later, asking about their status. Arcee only half-listened as Ratchet brought him up to speed and Optimus mentioned that the intact artifact was in better condition than when it had been retrieved from the ground. Ratchet thought that was significant, but Arcee mentally brushed their comments aside. No doubt Megatron had hired someone to do restorative work on it. Focusing on the fragments, she blinked as her processors recognized the broken glyph in front of her. Rotating one of the pieces, she joined it with another and blurted out, "I think I have something!"

Optimus strode to her side. "What is it, Arcee?"

"I've got a match. I mean, the pieces are all different but they all share the _same_symbol in the same area."

"What symbol?"

'Was he really that blind?' Arcee wondered. Pointing at his helm, she said, "That one – on _your _head."

Ratchet pounced on that. "Optimus, this is proof that the Dynasty of the Primes is real! And as hard as it may be to accept, you're somehow connected."

"Connected? You mean I might be a _Prime_?" he stuttered.

'It would certainly explain a few things,' Arcee whispered to Elita over their sister-bond; they'd both thought for a long time that there was something different – something special – about him.

'Yes. But it also raises many other questions,' Elita replied.

…

Before dawn, Arcee and Ratchet were at the dig again, this time joined by Optimus. The construction drones were late, but Ratchet didn't let that dampen his excitement. "This is the greatest discovery of our time, Optimus!" With a grin, he corrected himself. "I'm sorry, I mean _Optimus Prime_. That's got a nice ring to it, I think."

Arcee felt Optimus' amused embarrassment at that. "Now now, Ratchet," he protested, "I'm sure it's some kind of mistake. For all I know, it could mean 'records clerk' or something." And true to form, he deflected Ratchet's attention by asking Arcee about the delayed drones.

However, their conversation was interrupted by an authoritative voice calling "Optimus! Optimus, stand down."

'Stand down from what?' Arcee wondered of Optimus.

'That's Prowl,'her sister's mate answered, half in identification of the speaker and half in explanation to Arcee.

The mech and the rest of his squad of six crested the rim of the construction pit. "You're to be detained. Per orders from Megatron."

"Detained? For what?" Optimus demanded.

"Treason."

'Detained for treason by MEGATRON?' Optimus hissed over the bond. His sudden anger caught Arcee by surprise and her sister's mate stormed up the embankment. "How can that be, Prowl? How have I committed treason against my brothers?" His indignation was a ferocious thing and Prowl's doorwings flicked back in alarm. "TELL ME!" Optimus roared.

Arcee and Ratchet scrambled up the embankment after Optimus, just in time for the femme to see a familiar yellow temple guardian step in, cannon primed and trained on her kin's spark. He'd gotten the drop on Optimus. Despite that, his words were almost casual, conciliatory. "Ease back, Optimus. We're just following orders."

For a split astrosecond Optimus was tempted to fight his way out – Arcee felt it. Then he vented his anger in sigh of frustration. "You're right, um…"

"Bumblebee," the yellow mech supplied.

"You're right, Bumblebee. My quarrel is _not _with you. Take _me _to Megatron then."

"Everyone's got to go, Optimus," Jazz said, and Arcee felt her own stab of fury. Prowl was Prowl, and Bumblebee was following orders, but Jazz knew better! He was Optimus' own head of security! He'd sat down to energon and oil cake with not just Optimus but Arcee _and _her sisters, too!

But Optimus was resolved, and that calm resolve washed over his bonds with all his kin. "This is absurd. I just hope there isn't more to this."

'I'm on my way,'Elita told both her mate and her sister. 'Somebody's going to need to bail you out.' The words would have been playful if they hadn't been laced by her own worry and sense of foreboding.

They drove in silence after that, winding through a minor suburb of Thetacon that had been heavily damaged by the alien attack. Eventually they could go no further; the bridges that spanned a gorge were all either destroyed outright or unsafe for travel.

Prowl transformed and sent Jazz and Camshaft on ahead to look for a safe passage, then said, "Optimus, we need to talk." He had been pondering Optimus' question earlier and had realized that the 'treason' Optimus had committed was trespass in Megatron's quarters, but Prowl and Jazz had both been part of that trespass, too. He was interrupted mid-word, though, by a processor-numbing blast, the shockwave from it throwing all of them – even Optimus – to the ground. Smoke billowed around them, deadening all their sensors.

For a stunned few astroseconds, each mech and femme lay in the darkness and ran medical self-scans making sure they were in one piece.

"Bumblebee, you all right?"

Not trusting his balance yet, Bumblebee unsteadily rose to his knees. "I'm okay, Smokescreen. What hit us?"

"It was an explosive round," Optimus gravely answered him, and he realized that broken energy lines had probably made the blast even stronger. "This city is unstable – and the perfect spot for an ambush. We have to get out of here. _Now_." Seeing a flash of yellow in the haze, Optimus reached down and helped Bumblebee up, all thoughts of violence toward him long gone. Compassion took its place – to Megatron, this youngling with his whole life ahead of him was simply collateral damage. "On your feet, friend."

Camshaft and Jazz emerged through the fume and joined Optimus and the others in the difficult task of finding their comrades in the thick smoke.

Arcee shuttered her optics dully where she lay, still shaken and a little disoriented. Her lighter frame had been thrown further than the others and had crashed into a wall or something, leaving her half-buried in debris. Over her clan bond, she felt Optimus' question coming and answered it. 'I'm fine – or at least alive. Find the others.'

'What is happening?' Elita demanded over their sibling-bond, and Arcee could feel that Moonracer and Lancer were both listening over their bonds and wondering the same thing.

'We were attacked.' With awful clarity, Arcee realized the danger her sister was in. 'Elita, get out of Polyhex, _now_! If we survive, Megatron will come after you.'

Arcee felt Elita's grim resolve. 'He already did. My rooms just exploded.'

'_Primus_. If you weren't already on your way to bail us out…'

'It's on the security forces feed – they're calling it an energy-line accident,' Lancer confirmed. 'Moonracer, go. Just walk out of the warehouse – tell your superior you've got upset tanks or an overheating processor or something. Just _go_!'

'Where? You're a solar cycle's drive away,' the young femme protested.

'Go to Arcee,' Elita ordered. 'We'll all rendezvous with Optimus. Arcee, you just worry about keeping Optimus in one piece until we can find you. You know how he is.'

She snorted. 'Yeah. He has a sense of responsibility that's six times bigger than his frame.'

Bumblebee materialized out of the haze and hurried over to the pink femme. "Here, let me help you up."

"Thanks," she murmured as he shoved some of the larger pieces of stone off of her. Considering he'd held Optimus at cannon-point just moments ago, Arcee was surprised at how gentle Bumblebee was when he pulled her to her feet and laid a steadying hand on her back.

"Medic!" Cliffjumper called through the smoke. "He needs help over here!"

"Ratchet, help them out," Optimus ordered, and then his commanding voice rolled over them all. "Everyone else – stay sharp."

Jazz sidled closer to Optimus as the damaged and disoriented 'bots slowly converged on the towering mech. In a low voice, Jazz said, "I laid down a disruption cloud after the blast to buy us some time."

"Get them out of here," Optimus ordered in answer. "We'll rally at Burthov. If any of you have explosive charges, leave them behind." Arcee, catching the last part of their conversation, opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "Go!"

"And what are you going to do if you get caught?" Jazz challenged.

The steel in his voice strengthened their resolve. "Make do."

For an astrosecond, Arcee perceived the leader that only those clan-bound to Optimus were privileged to see, and then she was following the others, whispering apologies to Elita over their bond. 'We have wounded – and in the smoke we're more likely to shoot or stab each other than any enemies.'

'I'm going to strip Jazz's paint next time I see him,' Elita grumbled, and Arcee was inclined to help.

They drove hard, Jazz leading the way with Ratchet practically riding his bumper. Arcee was pretty aggravated right now, too, but she left the task of making sure Jazz knew he wasn't forgiven yet in the medic's capable hands. She had more important matters on her processors. Turning her attention inward, she focused on her clan bonds, silently observing her sisters and Optimus.

…

Bumblebee followed Prowl, worrying over fluids his leader occasional dripped. They were moving so fast that 'Bee couldn't tell if it was energon or something less critical like fuel or hydraulic fluid, but he wished Jazz and the medic would stop and take a look at him. Prowl was being stoic – as usual – but 'Bee knew he wasn't in any kind of shape for a race over rough terrain like this. Smokescreen had taken point for the temple guardian group, trying to find the smoothest path, while Camshaft paced their injured leader, leaving Cliffjumper and Bumblebee to bring up the rear. Burthov wasn't far, but as Prowl (and consequently the rest of the temple guardians) slowly fell behind the Science Division 'bots, 'Bee was increasingly convinced Prowl wouldn't make it, not without a pit stop.

The pink femme suddenly braked, falling back to pace alongside Bumblebee. She was weaving back and forth across their path, all but skipping with relief. "Optimus is okay. He's on our tail."

"How do you know that?" 'Bee wondered.

"My sister is his mate," she explained.

'Bee waited expectantly for his leader to say something, but Prowl was as detached as ever. Gritting his gears, the yellow mech spoke up instead. "Some of us are still pretty damaged."

"I'm sure Ratchet hasn't forgotten, but I'll tell Jazz to slow down." Playfully, Arcee nudged him. "And you owe me."

"What?" he demanded. "You said we were even!"

"Sure, back then," she airily said. "But you owe me _again_."

"I pulled you out of the rubble," he protested.

"After you _arrested _me!"

"That was Prowl. I totally stood up for you guys. _You_ owe _me_."

"Whatever!" she laughed, "But we'll settle the score later." Revving ahead of him to catch up with Ratchet, she told the medic, "You have a patch job to finish."

"We're not even halfway to Burthov," Jazz protested.

"Optimus will be able to find me using our clan-bond," Arcee reminded him. "And the temple guardians aren't exactly happy that their boss is leaving a trail of fluids."

With an irritated grinding of gears, Ratchet slowed and turned toward one of the damaged residential areas abandoned after the alien attack. Arcee followed and Jazz had to whirl a 180 and double-back to catch up with them. The guardians seemed relieved by the slower pace Ratchet set. They drove on in silence, allowing the medic to lead them to a ruined building. In its shadow, he stopped and transformed, and the others followed suit. "We wait here for Optimus Prime," he declared, just daring any of them to contradict his use of the title. When no one did, he walked to Prowl and began working on him again.

A short distance from the others, Arcee glared at Jazz, who vented a heavy sigh. "I didn't want to, ya know," he murmured to her. "But I swore an oath to uphold the law."

"And look where it got you," she sharply answered. "Where it got _us_." Although Arcee had to admit that, if Prowl and Jazz hadn't arrested them, Elita would still have been in quarters when they were firebombed. Megatron had miscalculated there.

"The one time I let Prowl guilt me into followin' the rules…" he grumbled, and the femme relented.

"Elita's still alive because you followed the rules," she reminded him. "Not because of the rules, granted, but that still was the result. If there was _any_time it was good you didn't bend the rules, this was it." She smirked at him. "But don't make a habit of it."

"Don't aim to," he said with an answering smirk.

Ratchet had finished sealing the last of Prowl's leaking fuel lines and was pulling some armor off his own frame to reinforce a damaged panel when Optimus pulled up.

One by one, Optimus looked over them, and Bumblebee could almost feel the weight of the mech's probing gaze. The title of Prime was a bold one and fit with Megaton's accusation that Optimus was trying take control of the entire planet. Still, even though this was the first time Bumblebee had laid optics on the mech, 'Bee couldn't think of anybot with a more Prime-like bearing.

When Optimus' optics fell on Jazz, the smaller mech said, "Sunrise is coming and the repair crews will be here soon. What do we do now, boss-bot?"

…

They hurried through the grey light before dawn, making much better time now that Prowl could move at speed. Optimus led them through the damaged neighborhoods to the edge of Trypticon's industrial district. He pulled up at a large, windowless building and was met out front by a slender, silvery femme. Without a word, she opened the door and gestured them in.

"Thank you, StarSheen," Optimus rumbled once they were all safely inside and the door had been sealed behind them.

"How could I do anything less for you, sister's son?" she said, patting his arm affectionately. "I only wish I could do more."

Bumblebee curiously peered at their dark surroundings, switching to infrared, and then blinked in surprise. They were in an art studio.

"What will you do now?" the ancient, silvery femme asked.

"For the moment, regroup. Elita escaped the firebombing of her quarters; she'll be working her way to me as she can."

"You'll not go to her?"

He glanced over Ratchet, Arcee and the rest before looking back to StarSheen. "I would only draw danger to her. Singly, she'll be safer travelling the distance."

"I could find her for ya, Optimus," Jazz volunteered.

He shook his head no. "You are all marked for death. One way or another, the lives we have known have ended. If we disperse, returning to our clans, they will also be marked for death. I know his spark; Megatron will hunt us down one by one." He looked to their hostess. "Including you. We will stay until twilight, no longer, and then we must find other shelter, but I would not leave you here alone."

StarSheen lifted her chin. "I stand in the stead of my sister at your side."

Optimus nodded, and Bumblebee thought he looked like a heavy burden had been lifted from his spark. To the ragtag group that surrounded him, he said, "It is because of your association with me that your lives are forfeit. I will do all I can to keep you safe for as long as you wish."

Arcee stepped forward, planting her hands on her hips. "Sister's mate, I stand in Elita's stead by your side, and I will do all _I _can to keep you safe until she is with us. That includes saving you from your own tendency to shoulder everyone else's burdens. And I say that with her approval."

Bumblebee raised his optic ridges in surprise at her audacity, even if Optimus was kin to her. _Of course, _he mused, _I already knew she had a brash streak._

Ratchet moved closer to her. "You know where I stand, Optimus Prime."

Jazz stepped forward to join Arcee. "I'm your security chief, Optimus. I shoulda known better than to follow Megatron's orders. Because of me, ya almost lost your life, along with the rest of us. I stand at your side, too, as a matter of professional pride to make sure it doesn't come that close again."

Bumblebee was shocked when Prowl also spoke up. "I'm afraid I have to contradict you, Jazz. Optimus, it was because of _me _that you were in a position to be ambushed – all the others with me were acting under my authority. I see now that you were falsely accused, and I am duty-bound to correct that error."

Optimus was caught by surprise at that and he solemnly bowed his head, accepting Prowl's unexpected support.

"Where Prowl goes, I go," Cliffjumper declared.

"Same for me," Smokescreen added, and Camshaft said, "Count me in."

All optics turned to Bumblebee, and he considered the larger-than-life mech in front of him. 'Bee made friends easily, but this felt different – deeper. If he swore his allegiance, there would be no going back. Giving his loyalty to Optimus would be as permanent and life-altering as forming a brother bond. He liked the thought, being tied to this close-knit clan, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to make the promise it would take. Most of what he knew about Optimus was hearsay, and it would also mean that Pit-spawn Chromia would be like kin.

"You are not bound to us," Optimus softly said. "If you choose to leave us and try your luck alone, we will neither hold you back nor follow you."

Bumblebee fell back on the truth that had landed him in this crazy situation to begin with. "My first loyalty is to Prowl. If he gives you his allegiance, you have mine, too."


	4. Hide and Seek

Prowl ordered his mechs to get some rest, and they spread out a little in the studio, finding out-of-the-way places to transform into their alt-forms for some light recharge. Prowl himself stayed close to Optimus. Ratchet was still fussing over the enforcer's injuries, and Arcee wasn't about to leave her friend and her clan-leader to go bunk with the mechs who had arrested them. Optimus and StarSheen spoke softly, but in the quiet, their voices carried.

"I do not wish to discount your hospitality," Prowl formally said to StarSheen.

The femme gave him a knowing smile. "But. You question the wisdom of turning to kin in your hour of need?"

"Yes."

"There are two answers to that. Firstly, I have a drone back at home that I specifically designed to impersonate me."

Jazz half-transformed just so he could stare at this quirky femme.

She softly laughed at their expressions. "Being an empire-renowned artist has its drawbacks, like repeating myself a thousand times when asked the same questions by admirers and biographers. For a while, I literally spent more time in interviews than I did in the studio. It was to the point that I was _hiding _from unexpected visitors."

"So you programmed a drone with your answers, built her to look like you and…basically cloned yourself?" Jazz looked thoroughly impressed.

"For how long has this been going on?" Prowl demanded, and Arcee had the impression that he was filing the information so he could press charges against StarSheen later. For what, she had no clue. "And where is 'back home?' I assumed your studio would be in your residence."

"Oh, it's been going on since Optimus was still a youngling," she said, her affectionate gaze falling on him. "A couple of my close friends discovered the truth, but only a handful of mechs or femmes know. She's a drone, of course, so her ability to interact outside of interviews is pretty limited, but…" She shrugged. "The mechs who seek you don't seem the kind for idle conversation. And the fact that I went to the trouble to build a decoy drone ought to explain why I located my studio in someplace other than my home."

"And the second answer?" Prowl asked.

"Alpha Trion," Optimus retorted.

"That's a name that carries a lot of weight," Ratchet said, muttering under his breath at Prowl to sit still. "But this is Megatron."

"Our protection is in his actions, not his name," StarSheen explained. "Alpha is leading his household's security squad to Burthov as we speak."

Respect flashed in Prowl's optics, but Arcee was a bit lost. "Why?"

"As another decoy," the ancient femme said. "Burthov is a predominantly Science Division city. To all appearances, I am at home spending a day cleaning while Optimus' other kin are racing with weapons drawn to a place where you are all likely to hide." She looked again at Prowl, her optics sparkling with amusement. "You didn't think any of us achieved our respectable age by being thick-chipped, did you? Alpha and I are both old enough to have seen a couple of wars. Now take your own advice and rest. We'll have need of speed and strength soon enough."

…

Jazz knew a place. It became almost a joke – he always knew a secret route and a place they could hide. From StarSheen's studio, they travelled across the city using restricted-access maintenance tunnels and disused alleys. No lock could bar Jazz and that _would_ have become a joke if their lives hadn't depended on it. He broke into a transmission relay station and Optimus' band of fugitives spent their first solar cycle in the basement, waiting for the dark.

It was there, in the silence with nothing better to do, that Bumblebee whispered to Arcee, "Can I have your comm frequency?"

She gave him an incredulous look and then burst out laughing so loud that Prowl shushed her.

Bumblebee's antenna fell back in dismay and, still chortling, Arcee pinged him. After a grudging few astroseconds, he relented and gave her access.

/Sorry/ she sent. /Didn't mean to embarrass you. It just caught me by surprise. It's such a _normal _question. Something you'd ask on a holiday, not while dodging assassins./

His doorwings drooped lower. /I guess it probably wasn't appropriate, huh./

/It was ridiculously appropriate/ she answered, growing more thoughtful. /I mean, if we're going to be on the run, we should at least be able to communicate silently or from a distance. Our lives could depend on it./ Out loud, she said, "Hey Prowl, can I have your comm frequency?"

Cliffjumper and Smokescreen both sniggered at that and Prowl shuttered his optics in surprise. Jazz looked at her quizzically before sudden understanding flickered in his visor.

Prowl answered, "Of course. We should all exchange frequencies."

…

Another night was spent furtively making their way out of the city. With the dawn of a new solar cycle, Jazz broke them into an academy that was empty for the weekend, and Moonracer joined them, led there by her sister-bond with Arcee.

Optimus, Ratchet, and StarSheen knew her already, but Arcee quietly introduced her around and had her exchange comm frequencies with everyone. "This is Bumblebee," she said when they got to the yellow mech, smirking as she added, "He arrested me."

"I pulled her out of the rubble," Bumblebee corrected, crossing his arms but not quite able to hide his grin. The little femme was cute. Likeable.

Arcee brushed aside his comeback. "He owes me – which means he owes _us_."

Bumblebee's antenna fell back in dismay (because he didn't want to pick a fight with the new femme) and Moonracer giggled. "Don't worry, Bumblebee. I'll play nice. If you arrested Arcee, she probably deserved it."

"Hey!"

'Bee grinned as the two sisters moved on to Smokescreen, and he realized that their banter was a sign of their affection for each other. Suddenly he didn't resent Arcee introducing him as "the one who arrested me."

…

The next night's journey brought their first real hint of danger. They had just exited a maintenance tunnel when Ratchet paused. /Do you hear that?/ he asked the group.

Jazz tilted his helm and nodded slowly. /Pursuers./

/Fall back, Optimus/ Prowl ordered him in a private comm as he transformed his hand into a gun. /Lead them to safety./

In answer, Optimus unsheathed a dimly-glowing energon sword. To all of them, he sent, /I am oath-bound to protect you./ Looking at Arcee, he added, /Sister of my mate, I ask you in her stead to lead these 'bots to cover./

/And leave you to be overrun?/ she hotly answered.

/We'll back you up/ Moonracer insisted.

/Your aim is just as accurate from behind cover/ he retorted, impatience plain in his tone. /Go!/

Arcee and Moonracer exchanged a glance and Arcee nodded to the mechs around her. /Any of you without melee weapons, come with me./

Moonracer fell in step with her, followed by StarSheen, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Camshaft, and Smokescreen. Arcee placed Cliffjumper and Smokescreen in the doorway just to the left of the tunnel they'd just existed, with Camshaft protecting StarSheen and Moonracer behind a refuse receptacle to the right. /Bumblebee, you're with me/ she told the yellow mech, crouching down beside a set of stairs opposite and just to the left of the tunnel where their pursuers were. He nodded and stood behind her, cannon at the ready. She transformed her hand into a vicious-looking subsurface probe that Bumblebee was all too familiar with.

/The rest of us stand by the Prime/ Ratchet firmly sent.

Optimus tilted his head in reluctant acknowledgement of the title and turned his attention to the doorway. Soon all of them could hear the scuff of footsteps, which halted just short of the low light filtering down the alleyway. For a long tense moment, pursuers and pursued waited for the other to make a move. Eventually a voice from the darkness said, "Brothers?"

Jazz perked up. /Trailbreaker. And that'll be Hound with him – no one else could have found us./

The Science Division 'bots relaxed at this news, but Prowl and his team remained alert.

"Step forward slowly," Optimus ordered. "If you come of your own volition, you are among friends."

Trailbreaker and Hound walked out into the night, and Jazz put away his weapon. "Drop the shield, Trailbreaker," he said and extended his hand, exposing a data transfer connection. "Report."

Hound was surprised to have so many weapons pointed at them. "Come on, mechs, it's _us_."

"Even bond brothers have betrayed each other in these dangerous solar cycles," Optimus pointed out, and Hound nodded, sobering.

Trailbreaker uncovered his own data transfer port and clasped Jazz's forearm, networking their processors. Both mechs' optics dimmed as Jazz searched Trailbreaker's memory files. For another long, tense moment, all waited for Jazz's judgment. Eventually his optics brightened and he nodded his head decisively before breaking the connection with Trailbreaker. "They come alone. And Hound of all mechs would know if anyone followed 'em. We're safe."

Vented sighs of relief echoed through the dark alley, and Optimus laid a gentle hand on a shoulder of both the newcomers. "You should not have come. We are hunted. Megatron will extinguish any he finds standing with me."

Trailbreaker steadily met his leader's gaze. "Our own kin have turned, Optimus. They've all aligned with Megatron, along with many of the other commerce clans. Our clan leader wanted Hound to find you and he refused."

Prowl narrowed his optics at this news.

"I told them I needed to think about it," Hound explained. "Megatron's words didn't ring true, and I…I sensed danger. I told Trailbreaker and so that night, we blocked our other bonds and left. Half of Thetacon's commerce clans openly support Megatron, and all of Polyhex wears his symbol."

"Megatron controls two of the three most powerful factions," Trailbreaker softly said, "and the Science Division is in tatters."

Optimus bowed his head at the news.

"We gotta get ya out of here," Jazz insisted, a new urgency to his voice.

The large mech nodded in agreement, straightening his shoulders. "I cannot let Megatron finish what he began in attacking us. Roll out."

…

The next night, they made it all the way beyond the limits of Thetacon to the sparsely-populated solar farms. Dawn found them in the middle of a collector field, recharging and sheltering under the broad, low panels until dark. Halfway through the solar cycle, Lancer and Prowl's brother Nightbeat found them there.

"Megatron has publically denounced you as a traitor," he told Optimus. "Polyhex's leadership is calling for a trial in absence, and the Council is convening tomorrow to consider it. Soundwave approached me about denouncing my own brother there."

"He contacted me, too," Lancer added, "about denouncing Arcee, but the Science Division hasn't abandoned you, Optimus. My sister Comet and her mate are quietly finding out who of their kin don't support Megatron."

Standing nearby to hear their report, Jazz nodded. "My brothers Jackpot and Ricochet are doing the same."

"You still have friends," Lancer earnestly said to Optimus.

Pointedly meeting first her gaze and then Nightbeat's, he said, "Yes. I do. Thank you. Now recharge if you can, the both of you. We must be on the move again as soon as it's dark."

As Arcee and Moonracer introduced Lancer around, 'Bee couldn't help himself.

The pink femme said, "This is Bumblebee, and he –"

"Pulled her out of the rubble. She totally owes me," he said conspiratorially to the orange femme. "But don't worry; I won't hold that against you."

Moonracer giggled and Arcee slugged his arm. "No,_ he _owes _me_. He's the one that _arrested _me – and Optimus. Watch him, Lancer. Don't let him get away with anything, the slagger."

Lancer gave him an appraising look. "Arrested her, huh? _And_ Optimus? You're a brave mech."

"Or he's not very bright," Arcee added, narrowing her optics at him. "You remember him, don't you? Career criminal, this one."

"Hardened," Bumblebee unabashedly agreed, not even trying to hide his grin. "Most dangerous mech here. Can I have your comm frequency?"

"Yeah. I could tell by the cheerful yellow," Lancer sniggered as she pinged him and was given access. "I'm glad _somebody _was making Arcee toe the line. Keep up the good work!"

Bumblebee snapped a smart salute. "Yes ma'am!"

…

Three more night's journey brought them to Jazz's destination – an area of cliffs and gorges too rugged for solar collectors and too isolated for much else. But more importantly than that, the composition of the stone masked spark signatures. "I used to come here with my brothers," Jazz reminisced as he led them underground. "Jackpot and Ricochet and me would hunt each other all through the tunnels. Jackpot has the better luck, 'a course, but Ricochet has better senses."

"What about you?" Prowl asked.

Jazz cheekily grinned. "I'm their younger brother – I got the best of both of 'em: luck and a good processor for finding places and people."

The tunnels let them hide from prying optics, but little else. The mechs and femmes made do with what they happened to have in subspace when they fled from Megatron's thugs. Solar energy was fuel enough for them, but energon could not be subspaced. None of them were low on energon, though, and so they were safe enough for a while.

Two solar cycles later, Optimus made his way back down to the flatlands and the solar fields, sensing his mate approaching. As eager as Arcee was to see her sister safe and sound, she let him go alone. Arcee was well aware of how Optimus had taken their separation, and he was beating himself up with worry about Elita. Arcee sat on a rocky outcropping that provided an excellent view of the flatlands and watched the reunion with a little smile. Yeah, sparks would be flying tonight, if Elita's feelings over the bond were any indication. With a heavy sigh, Arcee realized that her sisters were safe – all but one.

'Arcee,' Elita said over their bond, and her too-casual tone instantly put Arcee on alert. Something was wrong. 'Is there a cave or someplace where I can lock myself in with Optimus?'

'I'm missing something,' Arcee answered.

'She was followed,' Optimus explained, his fury roaring across the bond.

'Don't alarm everyone,' Elita said, exasperated. 'He thought he detected something, but I've been on the run all this time and I haven't seen anyone. Just to be safe, though, we don't want to go straight up to you and potentially give away our location.'

'I'll ask Jazz.'

'Bring a mech or two for back up,' Optimus growled.

'A femme or two,' Arcee teasingly corrected him, and then she went in search of the silver mech. She found him flirting with Lancer and heaved a sigh. Apparently love was the in the air, which meant _nothing _would get done this solar cycle. "Hey Jazz," she interrupted, ignoring her sister's annoyance. "Elita finally made it, but she wants to hole up somewhere so she can 'face Optimus senseless for a few solar cycles. She wants to lock him in. Don't suppose you know a place?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, there's a cavern..." he sent her the coordinates. "It's got a narrow entrance and it'd be a tight squeeze for Optimus to fit, but he should be able to make it through and the ceiling's high enough he could stand upright. Once he's in, Elita would have him good and cornered."

"Thanks."

Arcee relayed the information to Elita, and she was tempted to drag Lancer down to the cavern with her. But Lancer would demand to know why, and with how enthralled she was with Jazz right then, Arcee knew 'Optimus is twitchy' wouldn't cut it. Ratchet was still fussing over some of the processor damage Prowl sustained in the ambush, and Arcee didn't exactly have confidence in the medic's ability to be stealthy anyway. Sneaky, yes; quiet, no. No way was she putting Moonracer in harm's way, even if the chance of facing danger was slim to none. Same with StarSheen. That left one 'bot.

She found him in the next cave over, playing a strategy game with Cliffjumper against Trailbreaker and Hound. "Hey, Bumblebee," she said. "Come walk with me?"

He shuttered his optics once in surprise. "Why?"

"Because I'm feeling cooped up in here. Aren't you?"

"Come on, femme!" Cliffjumper protested. "We're winning!"

"So rope Smokescreen or Camshaft into it," Arcee retorted, rolling her optics. Then she reached over and grabbed the edge of Bumblebee's doorwing, putting just enough pressure in just the right place to make him willingly cooperate when she hauled him to his feet.

"Uh..." he unintelligently said.

Arcee scolded herself for playing with the mech's sensors that way, but really, she needed to be down there _now_. Taking him by the hand, she hauled him into the tunnel. They were outside and scrambling down the slope before Bumblebee had his wits together enough to demand, "What is going on, femme?"

"A hunt," she crisply answered. "Optimus thinks something followed Elita here and we're blocking the entrance so it can't escape."

"The entrance to _what_?"

"The interfacing cavern."

Bumblebee half-laughed. "Naturally." Then he narrowed his optics at her. "If you just dragged me away from a winning play so you can prank your sister, you'll owe me double."

"You owe _me_, remember?" she absently said, then held a finger up to her mouthplates, motioning him for quiet. When she pulled a crossbow out of subspace, Bumblebee finally believed this wasn't a prank.

/Are you _always _armed to the denta?/ he sent.

/I hunt turbofoxes/ she tersely explained, moving almost silently now. /Look sharp./

He crouched down and followed her closely.

'Physically block the entrance,' Optimus instructed Arcee. 'I don't want him slipping out between you.'

Arcee shifted to using her comm with her kin so Bumblebee could hear, too. /Okay...?/

Elita was more edgy by now, though. /He thinks my stalker is invisible./

Arcee glanced at Bumblebee, who shrugged and gave her a 'Don't look at me!' expression. /I gave up invisibility orbital cycles ago!/

She snorted and together they moved to block the entrance.

Optimus' lights flooded the cave with brilliant white and stark shadows, and he announced, "You can reveal yourself."

A disembodied voice answered, "Getting shot is not high on my list of priorities today, Optimus."

A chill ran under Arcee's armor to realize a mech really was there. She leveled her crossbow, searching the shadows for any sign of the speaker.

"You will not be shot, Mirage," Optimus assured him, "not unless you attempt to harm me or mine."

"But the harm a spy can inflict is often...invisible until it is too late."

Elita's hand transformed, a narrow, fine energon blade sliding forward to take its place. She stalked forward to where she'd last heard him speak. "Show yourself!"

"Being stabbed isn't on my list, either," he calmly said from behind her.

Elita whirled, brandishing the blade. "You followed me!"

"What _is _on your list?" Bumblebee demanded.

"Survival comes to mind," the invisible mech dryly replied, this time much closer to 'Bee.

The yellow mech's hands balled into fists as he realized just how close Mirage was. "Then stop provoking us and just show yourself!"

"But my mere existence is a provocation," he murmured. "I provoke my father and his father by disdaining Megatron, and I provoke you by being the son of my father and his father."

Optimus visibly relaxed. "Is that all you're afraid of, Mirage? That we'll judge you by your kin?"

"It is inevitable," he quietly answered. "I am always judged by my kin."

"Megatron was my bond-brother," the big mech reminded him.

"But the rest of your kin stand by you..." Mirage retorted, this time near enough to Arcee that the femme lashed out with the stock of her crossbow, hoping to strike him. It whistled through the air.

"...and my kin unapologetically stand with Megatron."

"What do you want?" Elita demanded. "Why are you here?"

For a long moment, silence fell over the cavern. "I don't know," Mirage finally whispered.

Optimus vented hard in a sigh and then walked forward a few paces. He stood, staring down for a moment, and stretched out his hands. "Yes, you do," Optimus said, and Mirage's cloak fell away. The large mech's hands were resting on the noblemech's shoulders. "You saw Elita in Polyhex."

"I heard the blast," Mirage admitted. "I was worried for her."

"And you followed her to see her safely here. But you were undecided what you would do then."

He nodded his head, staring at the ground.

"Whatever your options were," Optimus continued, "you decided your place was with us. Otherwise you would not have let me detect you like that."

"And you led me into a trap," he pointed out.

"I couldn't be certain it was you," Optimus answered, almost apologizing. "And I gave my word to protect those who stand with me."

Mirage's pale blue optics looked up, trying to read the towering mech. "And if _I _stood with you?"

"If you swore your allegiance, I would be oath-bound to protect you, too."

He glanced around at Bumblebee and the femmes. "And the rest of your followers?"

"Hound and Trailbreaker have been accepted," Optimus assured him. "They are not descendants of Trypticon's commerce clan, but they are kin."

"Few beings trust what they cannot see," Mirage said, and though it was said matter-of-factly, Bumblebee thought he saw a weary droop to the mech's door-capes.

Optimus lowered his head to be optic-to-optic with the younger mech. "_I _see you."

A half-sparked smile tugged at Mirage's mouthplates. "You're the only one – ever." Nodding in decision, Mirage stepped away from Optimus' hands and dropped to one knee. He solemnly intoned, "Forswearing my clan and the privileges of my birth, I, Mirage, heir to all the lands of Polyhex and its vassals, do give my oath of fealty to you, Optimus – "

"Prime," Arcee interjected. "He's Optimus Prime here."

Optimus felt a flash of betrayal that Arcee sensed over their kin bond, and she whispered, 'You can't hide from it anymore.'

The noble continued, "...Optimus Prime, and offer my allegiance, to stand at your side as a weapon in your hand in war and as a servant to you and yours in peace until the end of my functioning."

Bumblebee shot a glance at Arcee. He'd never heard someone talk like that except in a holoprogram. She just shrugged.

"And I, Optimus...Prime," he hesitated ever so slightly as – for the first time – he called himself by that title, "do hear your oath of fealty and accept your allegiance, swearing..." He again hesitated, then seemed to choose his words carefully, "to stand before you in war and beside you in peace, and in all things to serve you as one brother to another...until all are one."

"Until all are one," the yellow temple guardian ritually repeated, and the others in the room also echoed Optimus' words. It was a prayer in itself – their only prayer, really. It was recited at the creation of new sparks as their bonds wove lives together in unity. It was spoken as solace for the grieving in hope of reunion. It was an acknowledgement that even the greatest among them were mere cogs of something greater than themselves. In this moment, Bumblebee reflected, it meant all of the above.

When they climbed up to the main room in the caverns that had become their base, Prowl wasn't exactly pleased. "The heir of Polyhex?" he demanded of Optimus.

"He is bound to me by oath," the big mech answered.

"Spark-bonds don't mean anything anymore," Cliffjumper growled. "So why should we care about oath-bonds?"

StarSheen frowned at him. "For shame, Cliffjumper. Spark-bonds mean as much now as they ever have. And oath-bonds have even more value than before. Sibling privilege is an oath-bond," she reminded him. "You came to me, a ragtag gang of fugitives, and I sheltered you despite the danger for the bond's sake and for the love of my spark-sister and her son."

Gears ground in Cliffjumper's engine.

Through it all, Mirage looked on indifferently.

"He's not rooming with us," Smokescreen belligerently declared, referring to himself and Camshaft.

Cliffjumper added, "And he's not going to be just wandering around, spying us out so he can run back home to his clan-leader."

"No?" Mirage asked, and everyone looked at him…or at where he had been standing.

"Invisible again," Bumblebee grumbled.

"Why do you keep _doing _that?" Arcee demanded.

'Because he doesn't want to be trusted,' Optimus whispered to both Arcee and Elita. 'Trust isn't exactly considered a virtue in the commerce clans to begin with. His cloak alone arouses suspicion, and his younger brother wanted the heir's portion. Their father pitted them against each other, trying to make Mirage shrewder. Or maybe he was trying to groom two potential heirs. But Mirage and his parents have never been close. He hides behind that indifference.'

'That's why he was so willing to just throw it all away,' Elita realized

'I'd been wondering about that,' Arcee said.

"Put your weapons away," Optimus commanded, since the others had pulled them out of subspace in alarm. "He stays. There are rooms enough in these caverns. His upgrade has uses for us, too."

"Come out from under that cloak and I'll show you around," StarSheen gently said, and then she turned to her sister's son. "Now shoo, both you and your mate. Go find a deep cavern and don't come out until the next solar cycle."

Elita grinned, already taking Optimus in hand and leading him toward the tunnels.

* * *

Author's Endnote: In case you're wondering how Optimus knows so much about Mirage, in the Botosphere Optimus was the architect who master-planned the towers of Polyhex. It was while he was in the employ of Mirage's family that he first met the mech as a youngling. Optimus learned then how to see through the cloak. (See chapter 17 of _The Tie That Binds_ for more.) Also, for more about StarSheen, please see chapter 5 of _The Tie That Binds_.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Most of Ironhide's dialog in this chapter comes from IDW's _Defiance_ comic.

In RotF, sparks appear to have a physical form. When Megatron blew out Optimus' spark, blue fragments shattered around them. Likewise, The Fallen's spark was something Optimus could hold in his hand and physically crush. Jetfire also "bled" a blue fluid that was some kind of physical medium for a spark. Therefore, in _Eowyn77's Anatomy of the Spark_, we learn that what is known in the vernacular as 'the spark' is, in fact, a globe with an extremely thin layer of insulation or 'casing' which prevents the spark-energy from merely dissipating whenever the spark chamber is opened. Both the casing and the spark energy it contains are created solely by the All Spark. The spark chamber, then, is a protective housing for the encased spark energy.

(Mr. Technobabble, allow me to introduce Dr. Jargon. Dr. Jargon, meet Mr. Technobabble. I'm sure you two will get along swimmingly.) :D

* * *

Arcee sat on the stone slope, hidden in the shadow between two outcroppings. The sun was setting, and she was staring thoughtfully into the distance. In the entry of the tunnel behind her, she heard sand crunch and shift under a mech's weight, but the spark signature was one that was familiar to her and she didn't even turn to look at him.

Bumblebee silently sat down beside her. Twinkling in the distance, the twin cities of Thetacon and Trypticon sparkled like gems. Optimus' group had been here two dozen solar cycles now, and Optimus had spent much of that time strategizing with Elita One, Jazz and Prowl, though occasionally Ratchet or StarSheen were called in, too. Many of the 'bots passively scanned the news broadcasts, trying to learn what was happening to their world.

With so little to do, the 'bots talked, too – worrying about kin, telling the occasional funny story, reminiscing. It didn't take long under those circumstances for the 'bots to get to know each other pretty well – for good or for ill. Hound could set anyone at ease, for instance, while Mirage could condescendingly offend anyone (even, when he was in a particularly foul mood, Optimus). From some of the talk, 'Bee also knew their number was not yet complete. No one else asked about Arcee's missing sister, and so Bumblebee hadn't brought it up, either, but the mechs were beginning to wonder.

"So…" Arcee said, breaking the long silence. "You haven't mentioned your kin."

He shrugged. "My brother Goldbug is off-world. He's in the Defense Forces and is on a mission. I wouldn't be able to communicate with him right now even if I dared send a transmission."

The pink femme still stared into the distance, quietly asking, "Who do you think he'll side with?"

"Optimus," he firmly answered. "I have no doubt about that."

For the first time, Arcee turned to stare at him. "Are you _sure_?"

"He's my brother – of course I'm sure."

"But he's in the Defense Forces…"

Bumblebee shrugged. "Technically so was Prowl's department."

"That's why nobody's asked about him, you know," Arcee said before looking out at the distant, sparkling cities again. "You're both Defense Forces."

Her meaning suddenly clicked for Bumblebee. He still hadn't declared his allegiance to Optimus, just to Prowl. The problem was Bumblebee wasn't sure what to say at this point, especially after hearing Mirage's fancy, formal oath. He'd seen Optimus' steady leadership firsthand and the way the mechs and femmes around him responded. If Megatron was right – if Optimus had been Pit-bent on overthrowing his brother – he would not be retreating to hide under a rock somewhere. And he especially wouldn't be so…so slagging _peaceful _about it. There was no talk of retaliation or fighting back or even setting up a defense perimeter.

Considering the femme again, he asked, "Is that why you made sure _everyone _knows I arrested you?"

She flashed a grin at him. "No. That just makes for a good story."

He nodded, agreeing. The quiet of sunset and their surroundings was unbroken for several cycles.

"What do I say to Optimus?" 'Bee finally asked Arcee. "He's _your_ kin. Do I just blurt out, 'Hey, just wanted you to know I'm willing to die for you now – sorry it took so long to realize you're the good guy?'"

She snorted at that, glancing at him again. "You tell him the truth, Bumblebee. Whatever that might be." She narrowed her optics slightly. "I'm warning you, though. He _is _my kin _and _my clan leader. Whatever you tell him had _better _be the truth, because he's kept you safe and if you turn on him…"

"Whoa!" he half-laughed, holding his hands out in surrender. "I just told you I'm on your side."

She huffed, staring into the distance again. "You owe me still, and I'm not afraid to collect it out of your finish. That's all I'm saying."

"Right, Arcee. Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

He lounged back against the slope. "You totally owe me, remember? I pulled you out of the rubble."

She rolled her optics, comforted by his teasing, and they lapsed into silence again. Arcee liked him, she decided. He and Hound always found a way to lighten the tension, but even more than Hound, 'Bee was comfortable with just sitting quietly beside her. He was a natural-sparked scout, but seeing him side-by-side with Jazz, she also realized he was no spy. He was too genuine.

"What about your kin?" he asked, interrupting her reverie.

"What about them?" she retorted.

Flinching as he said it, he asked, "What about your other sister?"

Arcee vented a sigh. She'd been able to avoid talking about it for this long, but Bumblebee's honest answers made her feel like she should be forthright with him, too. "She's in the Defense Forces, serving with Captain Ironhide."

"Oh."

"She's his mate."

"_Oh_," he answered, finally understanding. It wasn't just Optimus and Megatron, then. Her entire clan was literally being torn apart by all this.

"Yeah." After a long moment, she quietly said, "She's been blocking her bonds with me and Elita for quite a while now. It's just, with this…"

"Maybe…maybe after this is all straightened out…"

She turned to look at him in disbelief.

"Well, the Council voted down declaring Optimus a traitor without a trial. Maybe, if they exonerate him during the trial, your sister will want to make things right, too."

She continued to stare at him, and he demanded, "What?"

Shuttering her optics twice, Arcee said, "I'm trying to decide if you're really that naïve or if you're just blindly optimistic."

He huffed, looking out across the wide expanse to the cities again.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just…this is Chromia we're talking about. She didn't even tell us when she took Ironhide as a mate."

He glanced at her curiously. "Then how did you know?"

Arcee half-smiled. "You don't have any femme kin, do you."

"No. My brother was my only creator, and his creators are brothers as well. None of them have mates."

"The spark-changes that come from taking a mate can't be completely blocked," she explained. "There's a…I guess the best analogy is a shift in the center of gravity. Chromia by herself feels differently over the bond from Chromia plus her mate. Elita and I knew, and we watched the housing databases for the reassignment of quarters that would follow. That's how we found out who we were now clan-bound to."

"Wow."

"That's Chromia," Arcee said with a sigh. "Most stubborn femme ever sparked. She and I always butted heads. The only one she _ever _listened to was Elita. But when…" Arcee trailed off. "Never mind. Things change."

'Bee shrugged. "Yes, they do. So don't write off your sister just yet. I'm not sure about the naïveté, but I'm always optimistic." Giving her a sidelong look, he said, "Guilty as charged."

She heard the teasing tone to his voice and half-sparkedly played along. "My turn to arrest you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answered, glad he could joke about it now. When she first caught him in her quarters, 'Bee was sure he'd never get over it.

"As long as _I _don't have to pull _you_ out from the rubble anytime soon, I think I'll let it slide – but just this once."

"Don't know if I can agree to a plea deal," he teased. "When it comes to being optimistic, I'm a career criminal."

She barked out a laugh at that. "Bumblebee, you are a complete glitch, you know that? I came out here to mope and you made me _laugh_! Slagger!"

He shrugged, grinning from antenna to antenna. "That'll teach you to hang out with me."

"Guess so. Your optimism is contagious. I'm guilty by association." She nudged him with her elbow. "Think we should turn ourselves in to Lancer or Prowl?"

"Naw," he said conspiratorially. "Let's see how long we can get away with it."

A voice in the back of her processors whispered, _I doubt it will be for very long._ But looking up into the unquenchably-cheerful optics of the mech beside her, Arcee decided she'd enjoy his optimism for as long as she could. "Deal."

…

Screaming pierced the air, high-pitched and excruciating. It was a sound that made every mech and femme drop what they were doing and run to help (or barring that, to watch with morbid curiosity). The cavern where Mirage had revealed himself had become their unofficial common room, and the screaming was coming from there.

When Arcee skidded down the tunnel into the room, she saw Mirage crumpled on the ground and keening like a mech whose spark was being torn out. His elegant, flawless fingers were ruined as he dug into the rock floor.

"No!" he wailed, convulsing. "_No! _Father…" The screaming paused as he sobbed and trembled like a frightened sparkling. "Mother…" Another pang wracked his frame and he screamed again.

Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, and Trailbreaker looked on in shock.

"What happened?" Arcee demanded, kneeling down to examine him for damage.

"Nothing," Bumblebee answered. "He just dropped his cloak and started doing that. _Primus_," he muttered and shuddered as the screaming was punctuated by a shriek.

"His creators are both severing their bonds with him," Optimus explained in a deceptively calm voice. Arcee couldn't remember hearing him arrive. Ratchet was suddenly beside her, too.

"Pit-spawn slaggers," the medic grumbled as he pinned down Mirage's arm and forcibly opened a data-connection port. "If there's any justice in the universe, they'll be fragged by the Unmaker from here to the Pit and back." With a fierce glance around the room, he ordered, "Get out!"

Arcee wasn't the only one who jumped at that command, and like the others, she wasn't in any mood to stick around and listen to the energon-curdling screeching. She stood up and moved to leave, but Optimus didn't. Elita was at his side now, her hand cupping his cheekplate, and he pressed her hand closer as though clinging to her. She steadily held his gaze, and they were oblivious to everyone else, including Elita's sister.

With a flash of intuition, Arcee realized what was happening between them. Megatron had severed his brother-bond with Optimus just like Mirage's kin were now disowning him, and both brothers had lost their parents. Elita was comforting him through his own remembered pain.

Arcee shoved hard against the block her sister had put up. 'Get him someplace quieter.'

Elita let a flicker of acknowledgement slip through over the bond and moved her hand to twine with her mate's before leading him out.

"Arcee. Stay."

She looked back at Ratchet, who was grimacing with the effort of holding Mirage down while still networked to him. After a moment, the noblemech's voice was cut off mid-scream and his frame went completely limp.

Looking up at her, Ratchet demanded, "What do you know about spark injury?"

"Just being treated after my creator died," she answered, the pain of that remembered loss throbbing in the silence. "A broken bond mars the spark. Fractures the casing."

"I've shut down all his sensors and motor relays, but his coding is too unstable for stasis yet. Fragging so-called _kin _are still severing bonds. Probably his brothers this time. You want to patch in and try to keep him together, or do you want to try to seal those breaches in his spark casing?"

She gritted her denta. It was bad enough listening to Mirage – the last thing she wanted to do was try to network her processors with a mech in his condition. "I've never worked with damaged sparks, but I'm not patching in."

Ratchet pulled an aerator can out of subspace and tossed it to her. "Do your fragging best, then." His optics went dim as he immersed himself in Mirage's code.

With a grimace of her own, Arcee plugged into the data port on Mirage's other wrist and networked just deeply enough to begin a medical override. Being created by a commerce clan, he had better encryption than most, and it took her a painfully-long time to get his armor spread and his spark-chamber open.

The surface of his spark was covered in thin fracture-lines that radiated from three different points of impact. With a spark that damaged, Arcee knew that even a strong air current could completely shatter him. Holding the spray-applicator far enough away that she _hoped_ it wouldn't put additional stress on those fracture-lines, she covered the surface of his spark with a fine, steam-like mist that would reinforce the natural spark-casing, allowing it to heal.

And all the while, she forced herself to _not _think about Chromia. Stubborn, arrogant, aloof Chromia who had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with her creator-sisters.

She winced as another point of impact cracked on the surface of Mirage's spark. The casing held, though, strengthened by the balm she'd applied.

After Arcee had done all she could, she backed away to the wall and kept watch over the silent medic and patient. The night was half over before Ratchet came online again, slowly withdrawing from Mirage's processor.

"Rough?" Arcee quietly asked.

"I've seen worse, but not often," Ratchet admitted, finally letting go of Mirage's hand. "He's stable enough for now. I've started a defrag cycle and uploaded some patches that should help maintain spark stability." He looked over the femme, noting the way she huddled against the wall and the bleak dimness to her optics. "I'd forgotten about your creator."

Her expression turned haunted as she looked at Mirage, but she shrugged. "I have my sisters. Dwelling on the pain doesn't do anyone any good." Deliberately changing the subject, she asked, "Is he going to make it?"

"Possibly." Ratchet shifted the noblemech, positioning him as if he were recharging on the stone floor. "The bonds were severed by choice, not broken by death. Without the recoil, the chances for survival improve."

"But he lost four at once…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"The bonds were weak, more like kin than brother or parent bonds. Mirage's parents and siblings blocked each other often enough and long enough that the bonds had partially atrophied. Slagging commerce clans. It probably saved Mirage's life, though. He'd kept them out as much as possible, so the sudden loss of data and dependent functions didn't disrupt as many processes."

Arcee sighed, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"Go on, get out of here," Ratchet gently ordered. "Find the others and put on some speed. It'll do you good. I'll keep an optic on Mirage."

She nodded and was halfway to the door when she paused and glanced back. "Have you ever lost someone, Ratchet?"

"No, thank Primus. A couple of distant kinsmech in the Defense Forces have been extinguished while off-planet, but never any primary or secondary bonds. My creators and their siblings are all still alive."

"Lucky you," she answered, more sad than bitter, and left the room.

Being brothers, Hound and Trailbreaker were probably coping together, and judging by the block on Arcee's sister-bond, Optimus was still with Elita. Moonracer and Lancer were trying to comfort Starsheen – Arcee knew she had lost at least one sister and would need the company. She had no idea whether Prowl would take Mirage's loss to spark, too, but she wasn't inclined to find out. Deciding that Ratchet had the right idea, she ventured out of the caves.

She found Jazz, Cliffjumper, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee already down on the broken-up edge of the plains. In the tournaments, the terrain would have been classified as Badlands, and the mechs were indulging in stunt driving instead of actual racing. They were all subtly working off the stress of seeing Mirage like that.

Jazz being Jazz, he was showing off with complex transform sequences and displays of agility that would make a Seeker dizzy. Arcee sidled up beside 'Bee to watch. "I bet he's tied himself into a knot before," she muttered to him.

Jazz executed a final flip before landing on his feet in front of her. "Have not. Back when I was in my second shell, I ruptured a hydraulic line, but I've gotten smart. Always went with a more flexible frame since then."

Cliffjumper threw himself forward and down into his alt-form, apparently racing headlong in a random direction.

"Where are you going?" Bumblebee hollered after him.

/Use your scanners already!/ he commed back, swerving around and between the broken terrain.

And then they all saw it – a Cybertronian blip slowly approaching them.

"Come on," Jazz said, collapsing into his alt and racing after him. /Before he gets us all in trouble./

Cliffjumper eventually slowed and transformed before creeping to the edge of a craggy draw.

/Report,/ Jazz ordered him as they transformed to their bipedal form and spread out around him, and they were all rewarded with a databurst of a face that most 'bots on Cybertron would recognize.

Bumblebee gave Arcee a meaningful look. /Captain Ironhide./

Cliffjumper leaped to his feet, towering over the grizzled warrior. "Halt!"

Jazz rolled his optics and urgently gestured for the other 'bots to surround Ironhide. Smokescreen and Bumblebee moved a little to the left and right of Cliffjumper, prepared to back him up. Neither of them was willing to stand immediately behind the mech who was suicidal enough to challenge Ironhide like that. Arcee and Jazz took up position on the far ends of their line, ready to block the front and back of the draw, effectively boxing in the big mech.

"Don't move, Ironhide," Cliffjumper boldly commanded. "Don't move or I'll shoot."

"With that?" They all heard the terrifying, vibrating whine of massive cannons charging. "I've got these."

"But that's _all _you have. You see…"

/Now!/ Jazz commed before Cliffjumper could really provoke Ironhide. The rest of the 'bots leaped forward, springing their improvised ambush.

Smirking, Cliffjumper said, "…_I've _got them."

To their collective relief (and Jazz's bafflement), Ironhide stood down, his cannons dimming. "I'm in no mood to fight."

"What _did _you come for then?" Cliffjumper demanded.

Feeling like he should show _some _kind of leadership here, Jazz added, "It better not be trouble." His gaze darted pointedly to Cliffjumper. "We've got that covered."

"I'm just walking," Ironhide murmured, so subdued it was almost worrying. "There's nothing for me back there now."

Arcee and Bumblebee exchanged another surprised look.

Ironhide noticed and grimly held the femme's gaze. "The cause has changed."

Jazz was aware of the sisterly squabble and frowned – there was too much going on here that he didn't understand. He opened a holo-transmission channel and contacted Prowl. "It's Ironhide," he reported aloud. "He's _alone_."

Prowl clearly heard all the implications of that word. "Very well. Bring him down. _Prime _wants to see him."

"Right away," Jazz agreed. Then he nodded at the others and they began walking toward the caves.

Ironhide followed him, though Bumblebee felt it was more like they were an honor guard than a real one. He glanced once more toward Arcee, who was bringing up the rear, but her gaze appeared distant, and 'Bee realized she was deep in communication with her kin.

Elita was waiting just inside the door of the cavern that had become the common room, coolly watching the kinsmech she'd not yet met in person.

Jazz marched them all in. "Optimus, Captain Ironhide is here."

Ironhide strode forward almost casually. "You can tell them to lower your weapons, Optimus. I'm not here to fight."

Optimus nodded toward Jazz, and they all stood down. He tilted his helm, looking over the black mech. "Then what _are_ you here for, Ironhide?"

"I'm here to join you," the gruff warrior answered, "and you'll need my help, too." When Optimus didn't comment on that, Ironhide continued, "Megatron is forming an army, and he's finding no trouble filling the ranks."

Optimus' gaze darted to Elita's, and Bumblebee realized they were all waiting for some kind of kin claim from Ironhide. And the mech was refusing to make one. "I'm a soldier. I'm made for war. Your kind simply…are _not_." His cannons roared to life and were trained on Optimus before anyone else in the room could move.

_We're all fools, _ Bumblebee thought, _What better way to assassinate Optimus_ _than to send in alienated kin? _

Optimus didn't move, and his gaze was locked on Ironhide. "You mean _our _kind. We are all brothers born from the Allspark, Ironhide. That is what we believe in."

It was a kin claim Optimus was offering him. A broad one, but a kin claim nonetheless.

The older mech huffed and disengaged his cannons. "But some believe in destruction and chaos. Some of the troops I used to serve with have joined Megatron's side. They call themselves Decepticons now."

"Decepticons?" Optimus asked, and they all perked up in interest. Despite the fact that they were monitoring the news feeds, they hadn't heard about _this _yet.

"Yeah. And like I said, there's no shortage of volunteers."

Elita drifted closer, and again she and Optimus shared a puzzled glance before he looked at Ironhide again. The stubborn mech was offering his services, but as a warrior instead of kin, and he'd come alone. Had something happened to Chromia? Were the two of them estranged? "So why have you left? And how did you find us here?"

"I have no desire to destroy the innocent. And I know your group to be innocent, Optimus Prime."

'Bee noted that Ironhide didn't answer Optimus' second question, probably because he'd have to acknowledge their kin bond. It was the only way any mech could find them in these caves.

But Ironhide had effectively sidetracked the bigger mech. "Please, just Optimus."

"But that is what your team calls you," he said, his chin jutting out in challenge.

"How do you know that?"

"I've been listening in on your group for solar cycles now."

Jazz muttered under his breath, and Ironhide smirked at him. "What? You think I'm all punch and no processing?" Shaking his head, he looked up again. "Trust me, Optimus. You're going to need my help."

Optimus glanced at Elita before nodding in agreement. Ironhide turned to follow his gaze and noticed the two femmes, but Prowl and Jazz pulled Optimus aside before their Prime could formally accept Ironhide's allegiance.

Seeing that he was no longer the center of attention, he stepped closer to the femmes and said in a low voice. "So, you are Elita and Arcee." He looked around at the primitive surroundings. "And this would be the Pit."

At the sisters' mild expressions of surprise, he added, "Chromia's told me to go there, and I know she's said the same to you. So here we are."

Arcee rolled her optics, but Elita said, "Please, captain, tell us…"

"What happened?" he guessed. "Simple. She's a Pit-spawn stubborn enough to move Cyberton out of its orbit if she thought it would look better there."

'Can't find it in my spark to disagree,' Arcee muttered to Elita across their sister bond.

He studied them for a moment, watching their reaction, but when they didn't say anything, he gruffly continued, "Megatron wanted us to sever our bond. We refused. I wanted to leave – I'm not going to side with a mech who would ask that of spark-mates. She didn't like it either, but she has an attitude problem when it comes to your mate." He jerked his head in Optimus' direction. "I wasn't sure how he'd take me showing up, but I knew you'd need mechs like me. I figured that if he was as smart as he's supposed to be he'd accept my service on my own merits, even if she'd slagged him off. It was time she grew up and stopped being a glitch about it anyway, so I made the choice for her."

The sisters stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, until Elita finally found her voice. "You made the choice _for her?_"

"Yeah," he answered, sounding almost smug. "Now she'll _have _to make things right between you."

"Or she'll sever the bond," Arcee pointed out, wondering just what kind of idiot her sister had joined sparks with.

He confidently tapped his chassis directly above his spark. "And give up what only I can give her?" He snorted derisively. "She'll hunt me down, try to whup my aft for my stunt, and we'll fight until one of us gives in and pounces the other. Give us a few solar cycles of 'making up' and I'll have her good and tamed for you."

Elita covered her optics with her hand, but Arcee smirked. 'At least they're well-matched,' the pink femme pointed out.

"Well, captain," Elita said out loud, forcing herself to look the big mech in the optics. "I wish you luck. I truly hope that Chromia can be…reasoned with as easily as you think."

"Yes," Optimus agreed, striding up from behind Elita and Arcee. Jazz led Bumblebee and Cliffjumper out in a hurry and Prowl was pointedly studying something on a data pad.

'Giving them something to do?' Arcee asked him over their bond.

'Jazz is unsettled he got so close undetected. They're organizing patrols. And yes, it clears the room for _this_ conversation.'

Straightening, he bluntly said, "We have spoken as captain to captain, Ironhide. I would also speak with you as a kinsmech."

Ironhide stood a little taller, his chin jutting out in challenge. "And what would you say?"

"Welcome."

A slow grin spread over the old warrior's face. "You're doing your fragging best to slag her off."

"No," Optimus amiably contradicted. "I strongly suspect shooting you would have made her far angrier."

"Eventually," Ironhide huffed. "Thanks for the welcome, but don't expect me to claim you as my clan leader. I'm here to fight. But first I need to recharge. I've been on the move ever since you went rogue."

"Of course," Optimus answered, ignoring the warrior's wording. Gesturing toward a silvery femme who had just entered the cavern, he added, "Ironhide, this is Starsheen, my mother's sister."

He respectfully inclined his head. "I know of you."

She gave him an answering bow. "And I of you, captain and kinsmech. If you are weary from your travels, there is a cavern that might suit your needs."

As he walked with her from the common room, he told her, "If it's not big enough for two, you'll need to find me a new one within a half-dozen solar cycles. Chromia won't be far behind me."

"So I heard," Starsheen answered, her amused voice beginning to fade. "I've taken that into account."

Prowl stepped closer to Optimus and gave him a sidelong glance. "Mirage?"

"Mirage," the Prime grimly agreed. "Have him use his cloak and shadow our guest, at least until Chromia is here. I suspect his noble sensibilities wouldn't tolerate us asking him to spy on _that._"


End file.
